The Wedding
by SpaceMonkey0941
Summary: Written for BiteMeTechie because she let me borrow her wonderful OC Lydia Winter for some Rodneyshipping 'ficlets. They've gone out, they've kissed, he's proposed, and now they're married. Apocalypse anyone?


A/N: Fourth and final vignette in my "what would blow up if Rodney McKay and Lydia Winter started going out?" series. They've gone out, they've kissed, he's proposed, and now we get to find out if the wedding happens to coincide with the apocalypse. Betting is holding steady at 12 to 1.

A/N2: Lydia is BiteMeTechie's, so is "100 Starting Lines" from the WPBA forum. This is line #045, "Stop eating me!"

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"Stop eating me!" my husband yelps. Eek. Husband. I swear I'll never get used to that . . .

"It's okay Rodders, I made both the bride and groom out of marzipan, it's safe," teases our matron of honor. 

"But . . . Ronon's just . . . eating it!" he protests again, gesturing wildly towards the hulk of a dreadlocked alien in question, who had been considerate enough to wait until after the ceremony to snatch the six-inch-tall candy representation of Rodney off of the top of the wedding cake.

I decide to defuse the situation before Rodney actually tries to make Dex stop eating, as that would . . . not end well. I pick the five-inch Mini-Lydia off of the cake and break off the edge of her dress. Stepping quickly up to a still-protesting Rodney, I stick the sugary morsel in his open mouth and wait for the glucose to reach his brain.

Zero-point-two-six seconds later, he closes his mouth and chews thoughtfully. I see him relenting and I wink to Dex, who smiles slightly and keeps eating.

"Well," Rodney says as he reaches for another bite of me. "I guess it's okay . . . as long as I get the first slice of cake!"

"Oh, you'll like it, McKay," Colonel Sheppard pipes up. "Chef Ramsey made a really nice lemon frosting for it."

As everyone laughs, myself included, Rodney gapes disbelievingly at us, then he grabs my arm and leads us huffily away from the now guffawing crowd.

"Can you believe them? And on our wedding day, too," he grouses as we reach a nice, secluded corridor near the mess, where our wedding took place. Rolling my eyes tolerantly, I dope-slap the back of his head and he snaps out of it.

"Sorry. I guess I'm still just trying to fit my mind around this . . . this whole thing," he grimaces apologetically. I laugh.

"Me too," I say, adding, ". . . but I think I could get used to it."

He looks at me with that expression he _always_ wears when he looks at me, sort of a cross between "this person should really be given a nice white jacket and a rubber room" and "I really want to kiss you senseless right now".

Apparently he's going for the second option, as he mutters something unintelligible, grabs me around the waist, and kisses me senseless.

Now, being partially senseless all the time (I sometimes think I'm a closet blonde), this is no new experience for me. However, I do believe I like it.

"Mmm . . . Rodney?" I murmur. He grunts in reply, not really paying attention.

"Rodney," I say again, more forcefully this time.

"Hmmm . . . yes Lydia?"

Smiling fondly at him, I ruffle his hair a bit before putting on my straight face.

"You're a dork," I inform him seriously.

He laughs. "Yeah, you too," he says as he grabs my hand and starts to lead me away down the corridor.

"Come on, let me show you our new quarters," he says over his shoulder as we head for a transport.

"Uh hunh," I quip as I follow him. "The two of us living in the same room. I wonder who will die first."

He laughs again, turning to smile one of those rare true smiles he's been showing a lot of lately. He throws a snark right back at me.

"I hope it's you, then I can have the TV remote all to myself."

My eyes narrow. Luckily for him, he notices the murderous expression on my face and runs for it. I follow, hiking up my skirts to catch him faster.

"Oh, you _better_ run, Rodney McKay," I yell after him as I follow him at top speed around a corner. "You better run, 'cause when I find you I'll–"

Oof.

"You'll . . .?"

"Oh be quiet and help me up. Fine husband I picked, trips me the first chance he gets . . ." I mutter grumpily as I reach for his proffered hand.

Then I strike.

"Oof!"

Hah. Teach him to trip _me_.

"Well, hello there," I say in a sultry voice from my position lying atop Rodney, who is looking up at me from the floor in shock. I gotta hand it to him, though, he recovers quite quickly. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he flips us over so that I'm on the floor looking up at him.

"Hello yourself," he replies, also using a _really_-not-PG13 tone of voice. Before I can say anything else, he continues, "Might I take such a lovely young woman as yourself up to my quarters? There's a bottle of champagne that has our names on it . . . next to the bed."

I giggle. This is not something I am usually prone to doing, but I felt that the situation called for it.

"Ooh, that does sound appealing . . . but I'm afraid my husband might object."

Now _he_ giggles, or as close to giggling as he ever gets. Getting up, he offers a hand to me again, but this time I take it nicely without yanking him down onto the floor. He offers me his arm and we walk gracefully towards our room.

"Your husband, eh? I think I know him – tall, handsome guy, brilliant scientist, right?" he says thoughtfully.

I sigh regretfully. "No, I'm afraid not, he's this pudgy little self-centered dork who I've been trying to kill since we've known each other, but who still had the guts to propose to me. I admire bravery in the face of death, so I married him."

As we reach our door, he stops walking. Turning to me, he shows that he's still the same old, snarky Rodney McKay that I fell in love with.

"Who are you calling 'pudgy'?"

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A/N: Alex is Reefgirl's, Lydia is Techie's, and Stargate Atlantis belongs to some rich person in Canada. I OWN NOTHING.

A/N2: But seriously, folks, you've been a wonderful audience, thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week.


End file.
